Mein Liebling in Ketten
by Hyper4Hetalia
Summary: Dark!Hetalia. WW3 has been going on longer than anyone could care to remember, and no one seems ready to give in. But when Prussia takes Canada hostage and attraction between them blooms, will they risk everything for love? Better summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:**** Dark!Hetalia. This fanfiction will be contain boy-on-boy sex, swearing, violence and gore.**

**Summary:**** The Third World War has literally split the world into two opposing sides, and has been going on longer than anyone cares to remember. No one is allowed out of their house at night, everyone has bomb shelters built into their basements, and even asking your neighbor to borrow a cup of sugar is suspicious enough to land you in jail. At the age of sixteen, every able-bodied boy is recruited into the military, most to never be heard by from their families again. And in the middle of it all, Matthew Williams, personification of Canada, gets taken prisoner by the irritatingly charming Prussian, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Despite being from opposite sides and having polar personalities, the two realize they share similar opinions about the war at hand, and soon they can't deny the attraction building between them- but is love worth the risk of their own lives and betraying their allies?**

**Notes:**** This fanfiction is mostly PruCan, but its possible that later on there will be mentions of other pairings like USUK, Spamano, SwissAus, Rochu or some others, or some small scenes that take place between other Nations when neither Prussia nor Canada are around, but that will only happen when it is relevant to the plot. Also, this fanfiction is ****_slightly _AU, and exists in no definite time-period, though has both steampunk and modern traits. You'll notice things like Kumajiro being able to change his size of Gilbird being able to take the form of a Prussian Eagle- just go with it, its there to make things interesting.**

**So, please enjoy and thank you for reading!**

.

The sky was a sheet of black, only the light of an ominous moon turning each flake of snow in an unending expanse of white to a glowing beacon. There was nothing to be seen for miles- no trees, no buildings, no people. Civilians weren't allowed to be out the late, anyhow. After the war had begun, a strict curfew had been placed, preventing people from leaving their homes after dark. Things hadn't been in the same for years. No one trusted anyone, governments monitored everything more closely than ever before, and every night people slept in make-shift bomb shelters constructed in their own basements.

The world had changed in such a short amount of time all those years ago, earning it the nickname the Over-Night War. What had started out as seemingly a small disagreement between a select few countries had been blown out of proportion, causing nations to choose sides until the world seemed split completely in half.

The night was the worst, the time of day Matthew Williams hated the most. The night belonged to the soldiers and to the war. As soon as the sun went down, the air would be filled with the sound of planes flying low overhead, and in the dark it was impossible to tell from the ground whether they were friend or foe. The pavement would echo with the sound of marching as soldiers patrolled the streets with guns slung over their backs, and warrants permitting them to arrest anyone out after curfew

And on a winter night like this, half-hidden behind a snowbank, a gun clutched between frozen fingers and no civilization around for miles, the world had never seemed so cold.

Shocking amethyst eyes narrowed behind a pair of wire-rim glasses, straining as they stared out into the distance. Every muscle was crouched in anticipation, an index finger pressed readily against the trigger of a loaded gun. How long had he been sitting there like that, completely unmoving? It must have been three hours since he had last even blinked.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot sent a jolt straight through Matthew's heart, and it took him several seconds before he realized he had been uninjured, and instead his musket had been blown out of his hands and lay in a splintered mess several yards away. Matthew whirled around quickly, his eyes darting in every which direction. Impossible... he couldn't see anyone, and there were no hiding places better than the occasional snowbank, no higher than a foot or so off the ground.

Then, a new sound was carried to him over the howling of the wind; a harsh, hissing laugh that seemed to surround him, yet at the same time come from no direction at all.

Matthew's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Alright, whose there!" he demanded, his numb fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He hadn't thought to bring another weapon, aside from the pocket knife tucked into his boot, but god dammit he wasn't going down without a fight.

"Keseseses!" there was that peculiar, rasping laugh again, although this time it was followed by a reply. "What do you mean?" the voice was heavily accented, though in the heat of the moment with his adrenalin rushing and the blood pounding in his ears, Matthew couldn't place it. It grated on him, though; it reminded him of sandpaper or the voice of someone who had been smoking for a good amount of years. "You really can't see me? Look closer,"

Matthew hated the way that voice tormented him, mocked him. If his gun hadn't been blown to pieces, he'd blow the source of this voice straight to hell. Still, he did as it instructed, squinting his eyes and turning his head every which way.

Then he saw him.

At first Matthew thought he may be an angel, with a face more handsome than any he had ever seen, hair as silver as the moonlight and skin whiter than the snow underfoot. But looking more closely, he knew that couldn't be it. This mans eyes glimmered the color of blood, his the corners of his mouth were lifted in a cold smirk.

It made sense now why Matthew hadn't been able to see him at first. This man wore a long black coat to protect himself from the blizzard, which blended in perfectly with the onyx sky, as well as a black scarf and gloves. His boots were as white as his hair and skin, and at a distance could easily be mistaken for snowflakes.

"Mon Dieu," Matthew's breath escaped him, and he took an automatic step backward. It wasn't that he was a coward, but he had suddenly remembered the stories he had heard of a man whiter than winter, and eyes red with blood-lust. "белый дьявол," he had heard Russian shoulders speak of this man, who they nicknamed 'The White Devil'. He would single-handedly take out entire bases by attacking at night and during a snowstorm, when it was easiest for him to blend it. Matthew couldn't help but wonder what he was doing all the way out here.

"You're... you're Prussia, aren't you?" Matthew asked quietly, watching the albino's smirk stretch wider. He hadn't been expecting to meet another country that night, especially not one who was on a different side than he was. But what struck him as strange was that this man was alone, without his army. That was very dangerous for a Nation these days, although Matthew had elected to do the same that night.

"Keseses! Why am I surprised?" the albino took a step toward him, tossing an ebony musket back and forth from hand to hand. "Of course you've heard of me! Even Canada knows of my awesomeness!"

Matthew wondered briefly if he ever got tired, lugging that big ego around with him all the time. The man reminded him of his brother, Alfred, although Matthew didn't want to blow his twin's brains out... well, at least not _all_ the time. He opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly realization struck a cord. He peered at the albino suspiciously. "You... know who I am?" it wasn't like him to make conversation with his enemy (Matthew hated hurting people, and getting to know them first only made it harder), but he was defenseless and needed to stall for time. Plus, he needed to learn why the personification of Prussia was in his country, and if that meant an impending attack from a powerful army.

He snickered again. "Don't look so flattered. The only reason I know your name is because your my enemy." he took another step toward Matthew, a sadistic gleam in his eyes, like a hunter cornering his prey. "Capturing Canada could give us a great upper-hand in this war."

Matthew tensed at the words, until he saw a flicker of movement behind Prussia. He was careful not to react, not wanting to alert his adversary. "I don't see why," he retorted, deciding the best way to distract him was to carry on the conversation. His heart was hammering wildly in his ."I wouldn't tell you anything, even if you tortured me."

The albino's smirk stretched a little wider, and Matthew could have sworn he saw him run his tongue over his lips. "You sure about that, Vögelchen? Torture is one of my sp-" in a blurry of movement, something enormous and white plowed into Prussia, throwing his several yards, where he landed in a crumpled heap. His gun was sent skittering across the snow, turning the tables on the two of them.

"Scheiße!" Gilbert swore when his back hit the snow, the surface of which was frozen over and hard as cement. "What the-" he lifted his head, scarlet eyes widening when he saw an enormous polar bear, roughly the size of a horse, charging him a second time.

He watched the animal scrape its wicked-looking claws against the hard snow, preparing for a second charge. Gilbert scrambled back a few feet, pressing his front teeth to his bottom lip, letting out a sharp, shrill whistle.

Matthew didn't understand what the Prussian was doing, but he couldn't imagine it was good. "Kumajika!" he shouted to his bear (he had a habit of forgetting his name), running forward and scooping up the gun that had been dropped. He clutched it tightly in his fingers, watching as the giant white animal charged for the albino.

Just then a piercing cry filled the air, followed by a loud rushing sound. Something enormous and jet-black was plummeting toward the ground, almost invisible against the night sky and moving almost faster than Matthew's eyes could follow. He was able to make out what looked like a some kind of eagle-falcon breed as the creature got closer, pulling up from a steep nose-dive and heading straight for Kumajiro.

The two met each other head-on, talons and claws scraping at feathers and fur.

"Kumakichi!" Matthew couldn't help but cry out, worried for his pet. He was so focused on watching the animals fight, he didn't see Gilbert charging him until it was too late.

The albino caught him in the jaw with a left-hook that could have permanently injured an ordinary human, sending Matthew staggering back several steps. The wind knocked out of his opponent, Gilbert didn't hesitate to go in for a second blow, punching Matthew hard in the stomach. The Canadian doubled-over reflexively in pain, just in time to see the Prussian's leg lift and slam into the side of his head in an expert round-house kick.

For a moment Matthew swore he saw stars. His body seemed to fall in slow motion, his vision flickering to black and dragging him into unconsciousness before he even hit the ground.

.

**Translations:**

**_Mein Liebling in Ketten-_ German for 'My Darling in Chains'**

_**Vögelchen-**_** Birdie**

_**Scheiße-**_** shit**

_**белый дьявол-**_** Russian for 'White Devil'**

**(If any translations are wrong, sorry- I used google translate.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there! Quick note, I forgot to mention in the last chapter that Prussia is still a Country in this fanfiction. Also, I'm currently working on a list of which countries is on which side, which I'll try to post at the bottom of the next chapter, so that no one gets confused and can refer back to it when needed. I can tell you this right now, though- literally the _only_ country who is not on either side is Switzerland, which will probably come up later. Also, I apologize for the general crappiness of this chapter, but, its in here for a reason; can't have Gilbert looking like a _complete_ jerk. Anywho, thanks a bunch for reading!**

.

_Mon Dieu.. my head. I don't even remember getting drunk..._ Matthew thought groggily, squeezing his eyes even more tightly shut, not wanting to be assaulted by the morning light. He must have passed out quite suddenly, because instead of a mattress or couch cushions beneath him, he felt hard, cold floor, possibly concrete. _Where the hell am I..?_ He thought, wondering briefly to himself if he had passed out in Francis's wine cellar again. Hopefully he at least still had all of his clothes on this time...

Slowly he opened his eyes, glancing around the spacious, dark room. Wait.. why was it dark? It should be morning, shouldn't it? The only light came from the top of a tall staircase, a small sliver escaping under a thick, bolted iron door. _Where am I..?_ he thought to himself a second time, shifting slightly to get a better look of his surroundings. He jumped in surprise when he heard a scraping noise, followed by a soft rattle. Matthew glanced over his shoulder, surprised to see that his wrists were cuffed behind his back and connected to the wall with a few feet of chain.

_ What the... dammit, Prussia! _The memories of the night before hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn't believe it! How had he allowed himself to get captured by that crazy albino! Alfred was going to kill him if he ever managed to escape.

He heard the click of a latch and the door swung back, screeching on its heavy iron hinges. More light flooded the dim basement, framing the tall figure in the doorway- Matthew knew immediately who it was by the messy mop of platinum hair and the glinting ruby eyes.

"Bastard!" the Canadian shouted immeadiately, glaring hatefully at the albino he already despised. "When I get out of here, you're in for a world of pain!"

Gilbert only acknowledged him with a laugh, that annoying sounding "keseses!" of his, taking his time descending the steps and making his way over to his captive. In one hand he held a paper plate that contained a glob of mashed potatoes and a hunk of bread, in the other he clutched what looked like a dog bowl filled with water. The Prussian knelt in front of him so that their faces were level, setting the plate and the bowl between them. "Dinner time." was all he said, sitting back on his heels and smirking pleasantly.

Matthew continued to glare for a moment, then looked confused. "Dinner?" he repeated.

"Ja, Sleeping Beauty, you've been out for almost twenty-four hours." Gilbert said cheerfully, his handsome face lit up with a broad smile.

The blonde rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant." he said impatiently. "Why are you feeding me? You Prussian's aren't exactly famous for your hospitality toward your prisoners. I expected starvation at least."

Gilbert looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. "To be honest, I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet." he admitted, shifting his position and making himself comfortable, looking as though he were having a casual conversation with an old acquaintance. "Truth is, I like you, Matthew Williams; you've got spunk. And I'd rather we just get along than having to resort to violence." _Not that a good game of Smack the Canadian around like a __Piñata__isn't all well n'fun, but I don't really feel like cleaning up the mess._ He thought to himself with a quiet chuckle.

"Its a little too late for that, I think." the Canadian said stubbornly, still glaring at his captor over the rims of his glasses.

The other let out a wistful sigh, shaking his head. "You know, you've really grown." he said suddenly, as though he hadn't heard him.

That caught Matthew off-guard. He blinked at the albino like he had said something insane. ".. Excuse me?"

"It seems like only yesterday you were a tiny little colony, hiding behind Francis's leg and downing entire stacks of pancakes twice your size." Gilbert continued, tilting his head to the side and smiling fondly.

Matthew's jaw dropped. What was this lunatic going on about? He couldn't remember ever meeting the more-than-slightly insane personification of Prussia that far back into his childhood; their history together was nothing more than a few glimpses of one another at World Meetings prior to the war and an encounter during his brother's war for independence; nothing of significance, and certainly nothing that dated as far back as Matthew's beginnings as a French colony.

"What are you going on about?" he demanded at least, giving the albino an annoyed look. "I don't remember any of this!"

"Well, you were young." Gilbert shrugged, waving it off. "But you and I saw each other often enough, whenever I came over to visit with Francis."

Matthew was only getting more and more confused. "Papa?" he repeated. "Why were you visiting him?"

Now it was Gilbert's turn to look confused. "Because we were best friends." he said slowly, as though it should be obvious. "Francis, Antonio and I, we were inseperable. Didn't you know that?"

"No." Matthew said flatly. "Neither of them have ever mentioned you, at least not in anyway way that would lead me to believe you three were ever friends."

For the briefest moment, a hurt expression flickered across Gilbert's features, but he quickly replaced it with an indifferent expression. "Oh, well, that's the past, anyway." he said nonchalantly, shrugging. "I'd probably shoot those two as soon as looking at them, if I saw them now a days." he said, though there was something in his eyes still that made Matthew believe he was lying.

"That's why I hate this war," Matthew finally said, looking down. "Its just senseless fighting... no one can even remember how it started anymore. All its doing is causing bloodshed and ruining past friendships, and no one has any money anymore because its all going to the military.."

Gilbert stared at him for a moment, bemused, then reached out and ruffled his hair. "You know what, you're right. Sometimes I wish everyone saw it your way." he said, surprising the Canadian. He stood, dusting off his pants. "But the truth is, people like our stubborn brothers can't let things go until someone wins. That's why this war won't be over until at least half the world is in ruin." he headed toward the staircase, pausing the glance at his captive over his shoulder one last time. "But how about after all this is over, you and I become friends, ja? Get the ball rolling again." he gave another of his weird laughs. "That is, if you and I are both still alive at that point."

Without giving Matthew a chance to respond, the albino was up the stairs and gone, bolting the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Bruder, sorry I'm late." Gilbert said, slipping into the dimly-lit room. The walls were painted an unattractive slate-gray color, the single yellow light swinging from the ceiling flickering on and off. There was a large, rickety table in the center of the room, with dozens of unoccupied chairs surrounding it. A muscular, broad-shoulder young man with blonde hair and impossibly blue eyes stood rigidly next to it.

"Bruder." Ludwig Beilschmidt, personification of Germany, greeted him with a curt nod. "Why'd you call me here?"

Gilbert grinned, sinking into a chair and kicking his boots up on the table. "I took a prisoner today," he began, lips quirked into their usual sly smirk.

"Anyone of interest?" Ludwig asked, sitting straight-backed in the chair beside him.

"Mhm," The albino mused, nodding his head, obviously proud of himself. He withdrew a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his pale lips and igniting it with a quick flick of a lighter that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, taking a long draw on the cancerous gray smoke. "A Nation."

Ludwig turned his body toward him at full attention, his sky-blue eyes impossibly wide. "You captured another Nation?" he repeated, in clear disbelief.

Gilbert nodded again.

"Who?" Ludwig pressed, grabbing his brother's arm in earnest.

"Canada." Gilbert nearly purred. "Matthew Williams."

The blonde stared at him for a long moment, his eyebrows slowly creasing. "Bruder… did you seriously call me all the way over here to pull a stupid prank? I know there's no country called Canada."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me, bruder? Of course there is! It's, like, the second largest country in the freaking world!"

"Stop lying, bruder, I don't have time for this. Do you have any idea how busy I am?"

The albino rolled his eyes and stood, strolling over to the only decoration in the room: a large world map taped to the wall. His hand drifted over the American continent, his fingers pressing delicately against the large mass directly above the United States. "Verdammt, West, its right here." He said, exasperated. "See? It's freaking huge."

Ludwig stood up, maneuvering around the table to come and stand at his brother's side, peering at the map through narrowed sky-blue eyes. "Huh." He said finally, sucking thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. "Wait, isn't that America's brother?"

Gilbert nodded, his smirk returning; his brother was really their leader in this war, so any approval from the German would be beneficial to him and his country.

"That's great, bruder. He could have vital information." Ludwig praised, his blue eyes gleaming with a dark excitement, like a hunter cornering his prey. Something about that look, one that Gilbert himself has worn multiple times in the past, unsettled him now. "See what you can learn from him; feel free to use whatever means necessary."

There was a dark underlying tone to his voice, and Gilbert knew from this that he was implying torture. But when Gilbert thought back to the small, helpless blonde he was currently holding prisoner, he knew that it was not within him to hurt Matthew.

.

Matthew whimpered as he tugged at the chains around his wrists, his bones screaming in protested as they were pulled and stretched yet again. Gilbert had told him earlier that morning that he would be meeting with his brother that day to discuss what they should do with him, but that had been hours ago. He knew he didn't have long until the albino returned, so if he was going to escape he needed to do it soon. But there seemed to be no breaking the shackles keeping him tied to the wall, and Matthew knew that if this insistent pulling went on much longer he would end up breaking his own wrists.

He bit his lip, swallowing a whimper as the rusted metal bit into his skin, little rivulets of blood rolling down his forearms. Kumajiro- whom was in a cage in the far, shadowy corner of the room -made a pitiful whining noise, anxiously pacing the cramped space of his own prison.

Matthew threw the bear a glance over his shoulder, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile but felt more like a grimace. "Its okay, Kumakichi." He said, giving the chains another feeble tug. "We'll get out of here."

From above them, Matthew heard a door swing open, accompanied by the familiar sound of boots clicking against wooden floorboards. The doorhandle wiggled for a moment and made a groaning sound as it got stuck on an un-oiled hinge, then was wrenched open.

Gilbert's tall figured appeared in the doorway, and Matthew watched, feeling overwhelmed by dread, as he trudged down the squeaking, half-rotted staircase. The albino held another plate in his hands, a few sausage links and a helping of sauerkraut and mashed potatoes sitting on top. He paused in his tracks when he took in Matthew's half-hunched position and the blood slowly dripping from his shackled wrists.

"It's no use," the Prussian said simply, setting the plate down next to Matthew and reaching for one of his arms. Matthew recoiled and tried to pull away, but Gilbert rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand anyway, his movements surprisingly gentle. "You can't get out of these things, they're strong enough to even hold Nations back. We account for these kinds of things."

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched Gilbert retrieve a small key from his pocket and unlock one of the shackles. He held onto Matthew's wrist firmly but gingerly with one hand, reaching behind him with the other to retrieve what looked like a miniature First Aid kit. Gilbert took a tiny white plastic bottle from the inside of the kit, dabbing some liquid onto a piece of gauze and delicate wiping the oozing incisions of the Canadian's wrists. He finished by wrapped the area in a layer of ace bandage so that the skin wouldn't chafe, then secured the shackle to his wrist again. He repeated the same process with Matthew's other hand.

"Why are you helping me?" Matthew asked quietly, watching his movements with weary violet eyes. He didn't want to trust his captor, but Gilbert's actions were so gentle, and there was no malice or cruel intent hidden in his expression.

"Don't want you to get an infection," Gilbert said simply. "These shackles are a little rusty." He finished and gave Matthew's arm a gentle pat without seeming to realize it, retrieving the plate from the floor and setting it in the Canadian's lap. "Here, eat. Sorry I wasn't here to bring you lunch."

"It… alright?" Somehow it ended up coming out like a question; Gilbert's kindness was just too confusing. Matthew lifted the plastic fork on his plate, stabbing a sausage link and cramming the entire thing into his mouth in one bite; it may not have been good manners, but he was starving.

Gilbert watched him, his scarlet eyes glimmering with amusement. "Good?" he asked.

Matthew blushed, swallowing a large mouthful of meat too quickly and almost choking on it. "W-Well," he said, once he was able to breathe again. "It isn't as great as my pancakes, but I suppose they're pretty good."

"Pancakes, huh?" Gilbert tipped his head, gnawing the corner of his mouth in thought. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

"You're going to make me pancakes?" Matthew asked in disbelief. This guy was insane, definitely the worst captor ever. Or maybe the best, actually. Matthew was decently fed, and not counting the painfully tight shackles he hadn't been hurt yet.

"Sure, I can do my best." Gilbert shrugged, apparently not seeing anything wrong with making the person he was holding captive their favorite food.

Matthew gave him a long incredulous look, then shook his head. "Alright then," he mused, not sure what else he could possibly say to such a thing.

Gilbert stood up, reaching for a frozen fish that Matthew hadn't noticed before and tossing it between the bars of Kumajiro's cage, careful not to get too close. The polar bear snarled at him but snatched up the fish anyway, turning his back on the Prussian as he tore off its silvery-gray skin and devoured its meat.

"Cute bear," He said in a condescending tone, brushing a piece of silver fringe out of his eyes.

"He might be nicer if you set us free," Matthew suggested hopefully.

Gilbert smiled and shook his head. "Not a chance, Birdie, sorry." He turned his back to him, hand finding the banister of the rickety staircase. "It's late; you should get some rest. We have a lot of important things to discus tomorrow."

Matthew felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Gilbert head back up the stairs and bolt the door behind him. Gilbert probably wanted information from him, but Matthew knew he could never give away anything that would put his brother or his allies at risk; even if he was tortured, he wouldn't tell them a thing.

.

**A/N: Oh God, sorry its been literally **_**FOREVER**_** since I've updated this fanfiction. Honestly, I don't really like this one as much as my others, but this one has a lot of followers and I don't want to let anyone down if they're really intrigued by this story. If you do like it, please review. When I don't get reviews I assume people don't care, and it takes me longer to update. Also, if you're interested, please take a look at my other fanfictions. I have another PruCan one that will be updated more frequently, and several other multipairing fanfictions, all Hetalia. So, please check them out and review them too ^3^ Thank you for all being so patient with me 3**


End file.
